Home
by Luenie
Summary: Dave Strider is trying desperately to find his way home, luckily there's someone there to help him on his way.


Just a little farther, just a little farther and he would be right in front of Bro's door. Just a little farther and he would be home. _Home._

Hair that was so light it could be mistaken for white instead of blonde shimmered in the dim lights of the stairwell lights. The stairwell of the apartment building had always been rather dark and grungy, but tonight it seemed even more so. The shadows seemed deeper and blacker than they ever had been, as if they were simply doorways to a realm of complete darkness. What poor lighting did illuminate the stairwell seemed to dance hauntingly over the cold metal of the steps and railing where the paint had long ago chipped away, revealing dull and rusted iron that had suffered years of abuse and wear. The lights that hung off the dull gray walls were spaced far apart, one per flight of stairs. This left long stretches of menacing darkness between the sanctuary like pools of light.

Heavy, sloppily placed footfalls echoed through the empty stairwell. There was no real rhythm to the foot falls, just the staggering shuffle of feet and the occasional thump of a foot finally hitting another step. The railing rattled as a hand ran along it, lanky and trembling fingers smearing blood over its surface as it tugged and pulled at it. The single hand and the arm it was attached to seemed to be the only reason the body it belonged to made it up the steps at all. Nearly having to drag it up to get it up another step, to get it closer to its destination, to the door that would lead to the hall that contained the apartment the body called home.

But this wasn't just a body, this was a person, this was a Strider, Dave Strider.

Dave huffed and coughed with each wavering step he gained, his progress up the stairs was slow; each step gained was more blood lost and more pain added to him. While his hand left a bloody trail on the railing, beneath him blood dripped onto the stairs in thick round drops. He might have been able to hear them hit the stairs if everything wasn't so fuzzy, if his heart wasn't so loud in his hears. He was sure that by now it should have exploded with how hard it had been beating this entire time.

He pushed these thoughts away, there wasn't any time for that, he had to stay focused, he had to reach the door. He had to get home; Bro would know what to do. Bro always knew what to do.

A few more minutes passed before Dave roughly pushed himself against a heavy metal door that was painted a once vibrant red that had long ago faded to a dusty color. There were no more stairs to go up, that meant this was the top floor, the floor he and his bro lived on. Dave winced and hissed as he pushed against the door with what strength he had left, the door groaned for a moment before finally giving and opening. Dave didn't push it all the way open, only enough for him to stumble through the opening and onward into the hall.

He heard the faint thunk of the door falling back into place as he staggered down the hall. It took all Dave had not to trip over his own two feet and fall to the carpeted hallway floor. He knew that if he fell, he'd never be able to get back up. He couldn't do that, not now that the door was right in his line of blurry vision.

So close, he was so close. No. He was there. He was finally there, the hand he had been using to support himself against the wall with dropped to his back pocket, digging around, trying to find his key. Oh wait… That was right; his key was probably still inside, covered in dust. Dave tried the handle, thinking maybe once Bro would leave it unlocked for him, but as usual, it was locked.

With a soft knock, Dave dropped his head onto the door. He was so tired… So tired, maybe he could just close his eyes and sleep for a little. Bro would open the door in the morning; he would fix everything after they both had a nice long sleep. The light of the hallway was brighter than that of the stairwell; it was enough to hurt his sensitive eyes. He wished his shades hadn't been smashed, wished a fist hadn't smashed them into his face. He could still feel small pieces of broken glass imbedded in the skin around his eyes, one of his eyes hurt badly, he couldn't see well out of it. He hated to think about what it looked like, hated to think about what he looked like in general. He'd let Bro handle it, Bro always handled it.

Wait, that was right, Bro. He had to get Bro.

Dave finally lifted his unoccupied hand and slapped it against the door, to out of it to really remember that actually knock on the door would be more useful.

"B-Bro! Open the d-door." Dave's hoarse voice yelled at the wood of the door as his hand continued slamming against the door.

Dave continued this process for what felt like hours to him but in all actuality had only been a few seconds, until he realized something.

"B-Bro…"

That's was right, he'd forgotten… Bro wouldn't answer the door because he wasn't there. He'd never be there again. He was dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. _Dead._

Dave suddenly screamed and smacked his fist into the door, not caring about the pain it caused him. Bro was dead and it was his fault. Dave's momentary rage subsided and he placed his hand flat against the familiar wooden door. Tears streamed down his face, they bubbled up and spilled over the edge of his eye lids. His already shaky and ragged breathing grew even more so as he pressed his head against the door, sinking slowly to his knees, sitting fully onto his tired legs.

The sobs tore through his broken form, his tears mixing with the blood on his face.

Bro was dead and soon he'd be dead to.

Dave calmed himself some at the thought. He'd be dead soon enough, no use crying his last moments of life. He let out a shaky sigh as he turned about and sat fully on the floor, back against the door, legs spread out in front of him.

Slowly, Dave peeled his hand away from the gaping wound in his abdomen. Which he'd been trying to keep from bleeding too much, but his once fair skinned hand was stained in blood, his shirt and part of his pants even stained with it. He was a bleeding mess. He'd been so foolish to believe that once they destroyed Lord English the game would spit them out shinny and knew with families to go home to. But he'd been wrong, so, so wrong.

When he'd come out of the game, he had been right outside the apartment building. All the wounds from the final battle he'd sustained remained on him. His busted up face, the cuts, the bruises and the quickly bleeding stab wound to the gut had all remained.

He couldn't exactly say he was saddened by this. He was glad actually. Glad that he'd been a bit reckless in the finally battle, glad he'd taken the hits for his friends, glad that he'd kept all these wounds upon returning home. He was glad mainly because it was him and not one of the others.

Before facing Lord English for the last time they'd all met up, and talked about what would happen after the game ended, talked about the possibility of going home. Rose had been the one to bring up the reality that they'd probably suffer greatly from PTSD and other physiological traumas. Jade was the one who'd brought the idea of the physical trauma as well, everyone had scars, reminders. Then finally, John had been the one to bring up the topic of guardians, of his Dad, Rose's Mom, Jade's Grandpa and his own Bro. He didn't say much on the topic, but it was enough to make Dave want to believe Bro would be waiting for him when he came home. Maybe it made them all believe that. Perhaps that was the final push they needed to give them all enough hope and strength in order to fight to the last. In order to win.

Dave had known all along that he'd never be able to deal with the end of the game, with the after affects. He'd had enough problems while he was in-game. He had died too many times to count; the scars on his body nearly covered every bit of him from those doomed time lines. The only reason he'd been able to keep it together when Bro died was simply because he didn't have time to break down. In the game he had to be strong, he had to be strong when no one else could. Because he was the knight, no, it was because he was a Strider. And that's just what Striders do. They are the brick walls everyone has to lean on, they never leave and they never break.

But Bro left, so maybe the prior didn't really count anymore.

No, Bro didn't leave, he was still there. He was always there; Dave just hadn't been able to see him until now.

"Bro…" Dave lifted his head to look up at the hazy figure standing right before him. His injured eye had stopped working some time ago during his memory lane trip, so now all he had was one eye left and the fog in his head wasn't letting him see clearly with it. But even through the haze he could see the outlining details of the person before him. He could still make out that hat covering hair the same color as his own, the points on those stupid anime shades that he had missed seeing so much even though Dirk had worn a pair just like them. Even though Dirk was Bro in a sense, he'd never been Bro to him. There was only one Bro and this was him.

Dave watched as a hand was offered to him, he looked at it for a moment before looking up and trying to focus on Bro's fogged over face.

"I-I can't… M-move, Bro…" Dave managed to get out, his throat felt like sandpaper.

"Yeah you can." Bro's strong voice rang out clear as day, he didn't make a move to step away or retract his hand. He remained there, solid at a mountain. "Now get up. We got places to go, little man."

Dave slowly lifted his hand, it felt a millions times heavier as if someone had glued rocks to it just to mess with him. It took him a moment but he finally managed to steady his bloodied hand enough to reach out and grasp Bro's larger and much more calloused hand. A smile crept onto Dave's beaten face, slowly turning into a full on grin despite the pain. Bro's image began to clear until he was in perfect focus and Dave could make out every last detail of him. Dave could feel tears once again falling from his eyes, but this time they were falling for a completely different reason. He cried because of the happiness that overcame him.

Bro gave a little tug on Dave's hand to help him up, and that was all he needed. Dave pulled himself up, smiling like a fool at Bro. In return Bro gave him a little smirk, ruffling Dave's hair as if Dave was still just a little kid. Dave let out a laugh, a true and happy laugh as he ran a hand through his hair to try and tame it back into place. When Dave looked back to Bro he saw that Bro had already started down the hall, walking towards the door that lead to the roof. Dave started and jogged forwards, trying to catch up to Bro.

"Hey! Wait for me!" He called as he jogged towards him.

Bro smirked wider at Dave as he turned to watch his kid brother run towards him, behind him the door to the roof swung open, but instead of revealing a stairwell golden light flooded through the opening.

"Try to keep up." Bro said as Dave finally caught up to him. Bro turned back to the door and with Dave at his side, the two brothers walked into the golden light, the door slowly closing behind him. Leaving behind an empty hallway, a haunted stairwell, and the body of a boy who was once broken. If one looked close enough, they would be able to make out a barely there smile frozen on those now cold lips.

**Hope you guys enjoyed this. Now excuse me while I go cry myself to death. **

**Please review~!**


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